


Centuries || m.c. + l.h.

by furbypocalypse



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5SOS - Freeform, 5sos AU, AU, Clemmings, LH, M/M, MC - Freeform, Muke - Freeform, ashton and calum arent really in the fic, idk????, uhhhhhh smut in later chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2395577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furbypocalypse/pseuds/furbypocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is on wattpad too so no I'm not copying any work and it's on as the same title idk read for it and vote for it on there if you like and kudos and comments are much much much appreciated like way more than you think</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is on wattpad too so no I'm not copying any work and it's on as the same title idk read for it and vote for it on there if you like and kudos and comments are much much much appreciated like way more than you think

It had been like any other morning for him; his eyes opened but he didn't dare sit up. Instead of checking his phone first thing in the morning, he chose to glance down at his wrist, blinking a series of green '9's, mocking him as he stared, impatiently waiting for something to happen. It must've carried on like that for twenty minutes before he heard his mothers footsteps making their way up the wooden stairs and to his bedroom, the second door on the right of the hall. "I'm up," he called weakly, and heard her footsteps turn right back around, down the stairs, to the kitchen. 

After staring a bit longer at the unforgiving green glow of numbers, he propped himself up on an elbow and for a minute his eyelids felt heavy, spending more time blinking than with his eyes open. He remained like that until he heard his door creak (which only happened to be his cat.) 

With a long stretch of his back and debating whether to put on pants on, he decided on yes and curled and uncurled his toes while he walked downstairs to the kitchen, where his mother and two brothers sat, eating their respective cereals. Deciding on poptarts instead, the blonde took his food and a soup mug filled with coffee into the living room, where he curled up in the corner of the couch and stared blankly at the TV.

It was going to be a long day.

He willed himself to dress and walk the two blocks to his bus stop, where he stood tall among the others, sticking out more than he would have liked. And on the bus he took his seat, next to a boy who avoided talking to him at any costs, absent-mindedly rubbing at the numbers on his wrist. The other boy didn't seem to mind.

First; English  
Second; History...

And after that, it all just turned into a big blur of classes and breaks and yawning and God, was he tired. 

But at the end of the day, he found peace in music. Not because his friends were in music, because he severely lacked in that department. His singing wasn't terrible in his own opinion, but he mostly went to music to hear the others play. There were guitars and saxophones and cellos and singers and you wouldn't think that'd sound well together, but it was like heaven. Of course he wasn't entirely fond of the other people who attended the music department at last period, (stoners, burnouts, girls with their breasts halfway out of their shirt and begging for attention), but it was something. It was somewhere he could go and forget about his time or lack of. He could kiss away his sorrow and self pity for an hour or so of peace. 

Despite his love for French, he dashed out of the classroom just as the bell rang, avoiding the herds of man-apes and took the stairs by two as he went down to the music department. 

He could already hear the sweet sounds of music when he was in the hallway. The orchestra room was directly in front of him, and the choir room to his left. Abandoning both choices, he turned down another hallway to go to the band room, where two guys, seemingly nice, were playing two drums in rhythm and trying to perfect their trick in which they hit their drumsticks on the stretched out canvas of the drum and somehow, in mid-air, they ended up with each other's drumstick. He smiled up at them and took his place in the corner, watching the others eagerly file in. Mr. Pomietlo, or one of them, considering he had a twin that worked in the building as well, was supervising today. Luke had him for the first two years of his schooling and they knew each other well, and he recieved a pat on the shoulder as the teacher passed and took his place into the small, square office at the far side of the band room. People began to fiddle with their respective instruments and Luke would've found a guitar to pass his time with, but he was too distracted by his time. 

It seemed to flicker hopefully as he watched it, one of the many, many 9's switching to a seven, and then all of them switching to 0's for a few seconds. It didn't take them long to return to 9's. Suddenly feeling a bit self concious, he wrapped his hand around his timer and bit his lip. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, the opposite of gentle like Mr. Pomietlo's hand had been. Nails dug into his skin and he was thankful he chose today to wear a half sleeved shirt, because otherwise he thought they might claw him so hard he'd bleed. 

"What's up with your time, kid?" a stern voice asked. It didn't belong to a teacher, but rather a senior who went by the nickname 'Ape' in Luke's head. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and winced as he felt another pair of hands pry his hand away from his wrist, eyes shutting tight. "You're not even Without, you're just a fuck up." he laughed evily, which turned into an undeniable smoker's cough. 

The fingernails of the other Neanderthal dug into Luke's arm, and the Ape's hand fisted his hair, tugging his head backward. His eyes were forced to open and the Ape's disgusting breath was near his mouth, almost causing him to gag. "So what the hell is wrong with you, huh, Lukey? Why doesn't that stupid little face have their One yet?" 

It had happened so fast that Luke could hardly tell anything happened. The Neanderthals were gone and someone was sitting next to him, someone that had encouraged their decision to leave Luke alone. He opened one eye and turned his head to the right, letting out the breath he'd been holding in when he saw that it wasn't a teacher, nor anyone that would hurt Luke more than the Neanderthals would. He'd seen the boy before but didn't know much about him. To be honest, he didn't care to. Thanking the stranger under his breath, Luke covered his wrist with his hand once more and ducked his head in shame. "Don't listen to them," the stranger mumbled back, shrugging his shoulders. Luke had seen the bright head of hair holding a guitar at some point, maybe he'd been in the band room. "They don't know much about anything, really. I'm Michael." The strager was suddenly matched with a name as he held out a hand, which Luke unintentionally rejected by shying away and turning his head. "And you're Luke," Michael sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as look scooted away. "I don't bite, don't give yourself a heart attack." 

And like that, he was gone.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi so basically i'm posting two chapters at once because i was meaning to post this story on here as well as wattpad but once again please leave kudos and comments if you liked it and i'll be sure to keep writing :-)

By Friday Luke still hadn't seen the boy who had stood up for him, but had heard his name at least twice each day over the intercom, being called to "student services," A.K.A. the counselor. He decided that it wasn't such a good thing that Michael had stood up for him, and from what he heard in whispers around the halls, he was completely insane, while others said he'd lost his One in something tragic. Others just talked about how vibrant and ever-changing his hair was. 

He'd stopped going to the band room in his free time out of his fear of the other outcast. Looking around the halls at school, Luke noticed that people in his year were getting into their pairs at such a high rate that he was the only person Without. 

On Saturday he saw the other. It was rare that he went out, and when he did, it was with his mother, so the fact that he'd seen anyone he knew made him cringe and divert his attention to the ground. He wasn't even sure why his mother agreed to take him here, but he wanted to change his mind so badly right about now. He took a deep breath and tried to pretend like he wasn't recieving the most piercing stare he'd ever been under in his entire life. Luke only pulled down the sleeves of his sweaters and started for the front desk in search of the vinyl album he called about. He spoke to the girl at the desk who went into a back room and returned with a guy around twice his age wearing a flannel and thin glasses. 

"Were you the--- Good Charlotte?" the stranger asked, squinting his eyes and hoping he was right. 

"Green Day." Luke corrected him with a polite smile, tugging down his shirt sleeve subconciously. 

"So sorry---" the worker began. Luke cut him off with a shake of his head, watching him return to the back room. His body stiffened and he side-stepped upon feeling someone next to him, and he didn't have to look up to notice Michael's convenient timing to come speak to the girl working at the desk. As if Michael could tell that the younger boy was scared of him, he shifted a little towards his left and towards Luke, not even thinking to acknowledge him. 

The man returned from the back and told Luke that the album was being delivered by someone in the town over as they spoke, and that he was free to look around for the ten minutes it would take. He nodded and inwardly winced at the amount of time he'd have to spend in the same room as the older boy. 

Looking around at the current and new albums, Luke chewed on the inside of his lip and felt an arm reach around him, plucking just the right record from the sideways shelves. The blonde froze, waiting until Michael's arm was far away from him before he started to breathe again. 

"Are you scared of me?" he heard a soft, surprisingly gentle voice ask. The younger turned his head a little to confirm that Michael was in fact talking to him and that he wasn't hallucinating things. The purple-haired boy didn't look up from the record he was examining, which in turn made Luke think he cared less than he did about bothering people, which in turn made him feel more negatively than he did in the first place. 

"Everyone is scared of you." Luke blurted out, his tone hushed and quite frankly more rude than he intended. Lifting his head, he shook it quickly and prepared his apology in his mind, when Michael released a soft laugh and lifted his hand to rub the back of his head. 

"Damn." he laughed. It was less of a laugh and more of a giggle and Luke couldn't help but appriciate it, though he was still shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm not that scary, Luke. I defended you on Monday because you looked like you could use it. You could at least thank me." 

Luke's eyes widened even more if humanly possible and he stared with a mixture of shock and "what the fuck did he just say?"

"Why the hell should I thank you?" he demanded, setting down the National album he picked up at some point. "Now even more people know that I'm fucked up, as if it wasn't obvious enough. Thank you, though; thanks for letting everyone know that I'm alone and I'll continue to be." 

Luke couldn't help but notice that Michael's cheeks grew red and his fists balled around the sleeves of his sweater, and he could only hope it was anger that he was feeling rather than embarassment. 

"Why the fuck do you care so much, Luke? Why are you so convinced that the world should pick who you spend your time with? Because I'm a god damn strong believer that we're humans and not fucking robots, that we get to make every other decision for ourselves, so why not this? You're concerned that you'll never find your one? Newsflash, sweetie, you have to deal with what you were given. And if that means you cheat your clock, by all means, do it. If you want so badly to find your One, quit sitting on your ass and waiting." 

Michael finished his rant by muttering his last phrase and glaring at Luke with those clear-green eyes that grew darker with each passing second. It made sense, now, why everyone was saying Michael was insane or something of the sort.

"I--- I didn't mean to offend you." Luke stuttered, turning his head down, almost in shame. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't been yelled at since grade three, and that had nothing to do with his time or lack of it. 

He heard Michael sigh and lifted his head to see the other's reaction. Michael had turned his head to the ground as well. It was the perfect time for the male worker to awkwardly step in, which he did, distracting Luke from the older boy. This wasn't something to waste his time with, Luke thought, and took the album after paying for it. He didn't forget to thank both of the workers and pay Michael a last glance, who stared right back. 

On Monday at school, Luke was having a fine day, but a tired one, nonetheless. He waited in his fifth hour classroom after choosing not to eat lunch, tapping his thumbs on the table with his headphones drowning out the noise of the school. As the bell rang to signal ten minutes until lunch ended, the blond pulled out his headphones and started working on the Pre-Calculus homework he recieved two hours earlier. 

"Please excuse the interruption; Luke Hemmings, Reagan Geitz, and Michael Clifford, please report to student services immediately." 

His head jerked and he looked at his teacher, who stared back in equal confusion. Luke got by just fine, and he didn't see why the guidance counselor would need to meet with him. Luke Hemmings was the type of kid who everyone deemed invisible until award ceremonies, where he'd accept at least three certificates or plaques. 

The blond boy uneasily got to his feet and gave a nod of courtesy to his psychology teacher, who smiled back and returned her attention to her laptop. 

Luke took a deep breath and hurried down the stairs, trying not to get knocked over by a group of sophomore neanderthals. There was a small room with windows where you were to wait before going in to see your counselor. There were two; Mrs. Stone, who was obsessed with basset hounds and managed the sophomores and freshmen, and the other, Mrs. Bowe, laughed and smiled overwhelmingly at everything and took care of the juniors and seniors. He sat down and tried to ignore the purple head of hair looking his way, and instead looked at the girl a year below him named Reagan, sitting three seats to his left. 

"Boys?" 

Luke lifted his head and hoped to Buddah and Allah and God and whoever was listening that she meant someone else, but Michael looked up too, then at Luke, and back at Mrs. Bowe. j

"Me or Luke?" Michael spoke up after a few seconds, looking between the younger boy and the blond counselor. 

"Both." she said with a wide and, quite frankly dorky smile, looking like she was biting her lower lip. 

"Together?" Luke asked, his voice unecissarily low and his eyes wide and doe-like. 

"C'mon," she encouraged, waving her hand toward one of two doors on either side of the small room. Michael was the first to get to his feet, sighing as he pushed himself out of the rediculously small chair, like it took all of his strength.

Luke followed, rubbing the tip of his nose with his thumb, a small sigh passing his lips.


	3. three

After the pair of boys sat themselves down in a pair of office chairs opposite their counselor's desk, Michael gazed around and let out a low whistle. Her walls were a cluster of photographs and papers and sticky notes, to the point where if she tried to point out a picture of herself, you would'nt be able to tell it from the bright purple notes that littered her desk. Luke couldn't help but giggle under his breath, which coaxed out a gentle laugh from Michael. Before Mrs. Bowe could close the door the boys were in a fit of laughter, which the short, middle aged woman took quite well. 

"You two get along better than I thought!" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows with that goofy smile and sat down in her chair, spinning from side to side. 

When they finally managed to calm themselves down, Michael was smiling the most Luke had ever seen, and he had to admit that it was a pleasant change. 

"So, boys." 

"Mrs. Bowe?" 

It came from Luke in an oddly teasing voice, making Michael raise one eyebrow and pass a glance to the younger boy. He returned it, almost immediately intimidated by the fact that Michael dared to spare him even the slightest look. 

"I've noticed, what with seeing Luke to talk about honors classes, and while seeing Michael about some attendance issues," (Michael smiled defiantly,) "that you two both seem to be, well, without." 

Luke's head immediately snapped up from staring impatiently at his lap, looking uneasily back at his counselor. Michael glared and Luke could swear he heard an actual growl escape his throat. 

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's not that big of a deal." Mrs. Bowe shrugged and wiggled a little bit in her plush office chair. 

Michael's mind was a mess of fuck this woman, fuck this shit, fuck her smugness, fuck my life, while all Luke could think of was nope nope nope nope nope nope nope. 

"Anyways, I was thinking because Michael's grades are just a little bit behind, and Lukey, you're the top of your class--" 

Luke cut off his counselor right there. He was one to respect his elders, but he'd be damned if he let this go on any longer, if he let Michael control this entire situation. "Don't call me Lukey," Luke said in a low, exhausted tone, lifting his head to glance awkwardly at the window. "Please." 

Michael, not willing to wait for Luke, who loved to take his time, scooted to the edge of his seat, ready to storm out of the room. "If you tell me," he started off slowly, more calm than Luke had expected. The blonde boy's cheeks had turned red and slowly but surely, he was scooting away from Michael, who might blow any minute. "---that you're going to have this kid tutor me, I will never return to this school. I will piss on your grave for thinking that you can just make matches like that, like you're a fucking Keeper--"

"Mr. Clifford!" 

"---then you can go fuck yourself." 

After a long stare full of hatred, Mrs. Bowe leaned back in her seat, judging the two boys. "I've already changed your schedules so you have an empty study hall together." she mumbled, chewing her lip as she moved some sticky notes to the side and picked up two sheets of paper. Michael glared right back, his blue-green eyes on fire. "Don't think of it as tutoring, think of it as just some extra help and advice from a highly advanced student. These are effective immediately." 

"I'm not highly advanced." Luke muttered sternly, feeling his ears grow warm. "I'm average." 

"Don't be modest, Lukey, you absolutely excel----"

"I told you not to call me that!" Luke's voice had raised more than he wanted it to, and he was staring painfully at Mrs. Bowe. Michael, who had quieted down after he'd been handed his adjusted schedule, quickly looked over to the younger boy with an overwhelming curiosity. 

Shamefully and quickly Luke pushed himself out of the chair and slung his backpack over his shoulder, snatching the schedule from his counselor's desk and muttering a broken apology as he made his exit. Thankfully, no one followed, and tears began to well in his eyes. Lunch was long over and the halls were empty save for teachers with a free period, who hung near the office. They all knew Luke well enough to know that he'd have a pass, and even if he didn't, his intentions were always good. Carefully, he ducked into the space under the stairwell where people liked to eat lunch and curled in on himself so much that he'd be invisible if you weren't looking. 

Desperately, he scratched at the numbers on his wrist, a few tears slipping down his warm, red cheeks. He swore under his breath, shrugging out of his backpack as he continued to rub, hoping that they would disappear. Mrs. Bowe had noticed, which could only mean that it was obvious how painfully alone Luke was. How he didn't even bother eating lunch because he'd look too pathetic without anyone to sit with. Not even a damn friend, he thought, no one but absent-minded teachers to depend on. 

Luke didn't move until he heard the long, lifeless beep sound, signalling the end of class. He moved before the stampede of kids raced up and down the stairs and headed for his new study hall. 

Needless to say, Michael never showed up. He could understand why, and it wasn't even Luke pitying himself, just that he knew of the "attendance issues" Mrs. Bowe talked about and never expected him to show up anyway. Their supervising teacher gave him an apologetic grin like she didn't even want to be here and started to grade papers, leaving the room occasionally to talk with a teacher or fill her water bottle. Luke always had enough time to finish his work at home due to the 'no social life' thing, and spent his entire hour, tapping his foot and listening to music while he reread a book of poems that he bought online a few weeks before, copying one down occasionally. 

"They said they'll get him to come tomorrow." Mrs. Slowiak spoke up, putting her phone back on it's hook. "In case you were wondering." 

"I'm looking forward to it as much as he is," Luke admitted with a shrug, looking down at his book with an emotion he couldn't even identify. The bell rang five minutes later and he made his way to French, which he suffered through without a complaint and avoided doing any work. 

He skipped going to the band room again and waited outside for his mum to pick him up, leaning against the brick walls with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He glanced over at the sidewalk across from the school that led up into a miniature hill, where Michael sat alone, a lit cigarette propped between his lips. Luke looked away after a few seconds and thanked whoever was listening that Michael didn't notice him. His mother pulled up to the school not long after and he hopped in the front seat, pulling off his backpack and setting it between his legs. 

"How was your day, darling?" she asked, just as she always did upon picking Luke up. 

"Not the best, not the worst," Luke answered with a steady sigh, glancing out his window at Michael as they passed him. Michael didn't look back. 

"Would I be right in assuming that it's a Catfish sort of night?" 

And that's what they did. You'd think that seeing couples in love would make Luke's hope shatter forever, but it was sort of inspiring. 

That night he and his mother lied on opposite ends of the couch, sharing a long blanket and leaning against throw pillows. They watched four episodes before his mother was fast asleep, and Luke was tucking the blanket safely around her, propping another pillow beneath her head. 

Smiling softly at her, Luke felt a deep, deep admiration for his mother. A lot of people lost all hope after their One was taken away, whether that be by death or and argument that broke their bond. But somehow, she raised three young boys with a confident smile on her face and reassured her youngest baby boy that he didn't need anyone to make him feel special. 

Luke stumbled to his bedroom and curled in the corner of his bed, staring out his high window. His time started to malfunction when he was about nine, and he ran to his mother and father with tears running down his cheeks, tapping at his wrist, which had read five years, up until that point. His mother took him to see a local keeper as soon as she saw it. He was told that there was no way to confirm whether his One was alive or dead, or whether his clock had been misleading all those years. regardless, Luke stared at it now with a certain desperation and resentment. That day in the clinic, his mother sobbed like he'd never seen before, and Luke was so confused as to what was happening. Due to the hopeful flickering of his time, Luke wasn't marked as without, but his case was stowed away in the "unknown" files. Two years later, when Luke found out what that meant, he wouldn't leave his room for three weeks. 

When Luke woke up again, his brother had his door cracked open and was checking on him. He was still curled up in the corner of his bed with his head turned to the window. 

"Are you alright, Lukey?" Foster asked, leaning against the door with his eyes squinted. Foster found his One when he was only fourteen, and they lived together for a long time before their father passed, and his older brother returned home to make sure his family was alright. He ended up staying longer than intended, but Lily didn't mind. She was kind and patient and beautiful, and Luke was thinking again about how he'd kill to find his One. 

"I'm good," Luke answered with watery eyes and a sure nod before turning his attention back to his window. 

His brother let out a tired sigh and crossed the room, climbing into Luke's bed. They'd been close for quite a long time; Luke was always caught peering through Foster's out-of-focus telescope and sometimes wearing his clothes without asking. 

They sat for a while, unsure of how long because of how blurred the time seemed. A weak sob passed Luke's lips after what seemed like ten minutes, and Foster instinctively held his youngest brother close to his chest. Luke was incoherently mumbling through his hiccuped sobs after a few minutes, and after that, neither of the boys were sure whether they were asleep or awake. But regardless, it pained Foster to see his brother so broken, so alone. Because he knew that time after time nothing he said really had any effect on the younger boy, because he saw the way he scratched at his wrist without even noticing himself. Soon enough he thought Luke might scratch a hole into his skin. 

Once he was sure his brother had cried himself back to sleep, he eased Luke down onto his bed and pulled a top sheet up to his shoulders. With a fond smile, he sat up and carded a hand through his brother's identical blonde hair before leaving quietly. The door shut behind him. 

The next morning, he felt congested to the point where he might pass out, but went to school anyways. It was days like these that he felt thankful for his lack of people to talk to, because if he had to say a word, he thought his head might explode. 

Mrs. Slowiak was right when she said that they'd get Michael to come, because when he arrived at his new sixth hour study hall, Michael was slumped in the corner, his feet on the table in front of him. The teacher looked pissed, to say the least. She was grading papers at her desk, scowling down at them. 

She lifted her head and gave Luke a quick smile before returning to her papers, looking thouroughly relieved. "Good, you're both here." she muttered to herself, marking down their attendance before stepping into her small office. 

Crossing the room, the younger boy took a seat in the second row, diagonal from Michael. He was looking pissed as ever, staring straight ahead, his jaw locked. You could hear the music from his headphones, and to Luke's surprise, he recognized the song as Green Day's "Let Yourself Go." It was loud and angry, yeah, but it was only fitting Michael's mood. 

Foster was waiting for him outside of school that day, and the second Luke saw his car, he bolted for it. In the process he gently nudged two people and apologized, and nearly knocked another person over. 

Michael was too astounded that anyone would dare run right into him when he saw that it was Luke. The anger that had already built up inside of him flared and Michael thought he might push Luke away when the boy dropped to his knees. He'd been too distracted before to notice that the blonde boy accidentally knocked the pack of cigarettes out of his hand. Michael's questions as to why Luke dropped to his knees were answered when he shyly held out the re-organized pack of Marlbro blacks. Hesitating for a few seconds, Michael took the pack and glared at Luke, who stared quietly at the cement. 

Luke flinched and nearly yelled when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder's, relaxing the second he opened his eyes and saw that it was only Foster. He was taller than Luke, which was saying a lot, and met Michael's height exactly. "Are you alright, Lukey?" Foster asked, pulling his little brother close to his side. 

Michael looked Foster up and down and realized that he couldn't go to school here. The bright-haired boy would have noticed him. He also noticed the string of zero's on his bare wrist, how they were a dull grey, how his arm wrapped protectively around the youngest boy. Words were flying out of his mouth before he realized that he was talking. 

"So you aren't Without?" 

It sounded so damn judgemental, so harsh and Michael didn't intend for it to. 

Foster gave a look of pure confusion, squeezing his brother's shoulder reassuringly. "Why do you care if he's Without?" he spat back, his bright blue eyes darkening. 

"We're not--- he's-- Foster--" Luke stuttered, pushing his brother away from him and darting to his car, climbing into the passengers seat, sinking down until he couldn't be seen. 

"He's my brother." 

Michael wanted to punch himself in the face for thinking that those two could Belong; it didn't even look right. And no one's time had even been as fucked up as Luke's, Michael thought. 

Foster was walking away before Michael could even think about apologizing. Instead, he let out a heavy sigh and walked around the building, where he balanced a cancer stick between his lips and lit it, burning it up in three minutes without breaking a sweat. It didn't bring him any relief, so he lit another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil side-note, Foster is Hunter Parrish.


End file.
